


Changes

by thealpacalypse



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, John's got a dog, Post Reichenbach, hinted Johnlock if you want
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-08
Updated: 2013-01-08
Packaged: 2017-11-24 04:15:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/630289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thealpacalypse/pseuds/thealpacalypse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which John has a dog, Sherlock comes to visit John in his new home and three years may be just a bit too much time gone by. Or maybe not?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Changes

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my lovely beta **[Mary](http://randomlyfandom.tumblr.com/)**!

**CHANGES**

“You don’t even like dogs.” Sherlock says, raising an eyebrow at the sight of the dozing pug below the armchair by the fireside.   
John shrugs. “I like them now.”  
  
“No,” Sherlock shakes his head. “That’s illogical. You don’t dislike things and then suddenly like them because a few parameters in your life change.”  
  
 _A few parameters.  
Is he fucking kidding me?  
He was_  dead _, bloody hell!_  
  
John sighs and gets on his knees to pet the pug’s head. (He has called him ‘Sherlock’, but he would never admit that to Sherlock; the actual Sherlock. The pug is going to need a new name.)   
“It’s been three years, Sherlock. Things change in three years.”  
  
 _Fucking three years.  
How could you leave me for that long?  
How could you not let me know that you were alive all that time?_  
  
Sherlock shakes his head again and then he starts pacing around the room restlessly.   
“Not things this big. I assume you dislike dogs because of an unpleasant encounter with one when you were a child, probably a mean dog in the neighbourhood, I can tell by the way you always flinch every time you hear a dog bark. So childhood trauma it is, and it just got worse three years ago, when we were at the military base and thought we were hunting a Hound. But considering the rate of the wastage of the dog’s collar, basket and toys, you’ve had this dog for a minimum of two and a half years. Half a year is not nearly enough to get over a childhood trauma, so tell me, John – what happened?”  
Sherlock has stopped pacing and is staring fixedly at John now.  
  
 _Three fucking years, Sherlock!_  
  
John wants to stay calm, he doesn’t want to yell.  
Yelling doesn’t solve problems; his therapist has told him that often enough.  
But how could he stay calm at  _this_?  
“You were DEAD, in case you hadn’t noticed! At least you let me think that, and I was alone again, and in fact I didn’t want any company anymore if it wasn’t yours. And people kept bugging me with questions about you and stuff like ‘How are you coping?’ and ‘Is he really a fraud?’ and I couldn’t handle it anymore. But when I was alone I was going mad so I bought a friggin’ dog to stay sane and have company and you are not the slightest bit in a position to judge me for it.”  
  
 _Glad to have said that.  
Now I feel better. Still angry, but…  
Damn. He looks hurt. And… guilty?_  
  
Sherlock turns away and looks out of the window, as if he can’t look John in the eyes anymore. This can’t be the case of course, because this is Sherlock, and Sherlock will stare everyone down.   
“Well in that case…” Sherlock sighs, “The dog can come when you move back into Baker Street.”  
  
 _Has he forgotten_  again _?_  
I think he has.  
Damn him. I think he does that on purpose.  
  
“Sherlock…” John says carefully. (The pug raises his head at the sound of his name, but John just gives him a look that is supposed to say ‘Not you. I mean the other one.’ And yes, John talks with his dog sometimes.) “I told you I’m not going to move in with you again.”  
Sherlock turns around to face John again, the look on his face truly surprised.   
“You told me?”  
John nods. “Twice.”  
“Oh.” Sherlock turns his back again at John and looks out of the window. “Must have forgotten to pay attention. Why won’t you move back into Baker Street, again?”  
  
“I’m going to marry, Sherlock. In two months.”

“Oh, right. Mary Morstan.”  
  
 _So he does remember.  
He just pretends to forget.  
He’s such a –_  
  
Sherlock doesn’t let John time to think about a word bad enough, he begins to talk again before John has come to a decision of what name to call him. “You are going to marry her in two months, and yet you haven’t moved in with her. This is still your place, even though she has some of her stuff here, and she still has her own place, I see that by the second house key on your key ring, the one that doesn’t fit in your door. Of course it’s the key to her flat and she has one of yours. By the look of the pictures on your mantelpiece you’ve been with her for a year, maybe one or two months more.  
You moved in with me after knowing me for eight and a half hours and now you’re going to marry her after one year and haven’t even lived with her yet. Human social rules are so very strange. Are you insecure about this marriage, John?”  
  
 _I hate it when he does that.  
When he knows me when I don’t.  
When I don’t have a fucking clue what is going on inside his mind._  
  
“No. No, I’m not insecure.”  
  
 _Lie._  
  
John knows that Sherlock knows that, knows he is lying.  
But Sherlock doesn’t say anything.  
  
“We are going to move in together when we’re married. We decided that together, Mary and I”, John says to defend himself, but it sounds weak.  
Sherlock just nods.  
John takes a deep breath. “And also I decided to stay away from crime scenes. No case solving for me anymore.”  
Sherlock raises an eyebrow. “You decided that? Or did she decide.”  
It isn’t even a question.  
So John doesn’t answer.  
“If it’s your wish I won’t hold you back”, Sherlock says calmly.  
  
 _Thank you.  
That’s the least you can do._  
  
“I have to go now”, Sherlock says and turns his coat collar up.  
Then suddenly he looks like he has changed his mind, and he leans down to pet the pug.  
“What did you call him?” he asks and his look pierces through John, right into his heart.  
“Pluto”, he answers quietly.  
  
 _Pluto, really?  
Couldn’t I come up with a better name?   
Looks like I couldn’t. Dammit._  
  
A hint of a smile rushes over Sherlock’s face before it’s gone again and Sherlock looks at him with this earnest expression.  
“John, not in a lifetime would you name a dog Pluto.”  
John bites his lower lip.  
Of course Sherlock would see through that lie.  
Doesn’t mean he can’t pretend.  
“Why wouldn’t I? As I said, things have changed in three years.”  
  
“Some things never do”, Sherlock replies. Now he can’t hide his smile anymore.  
He takes the dog’s head in both hands, looks him deep in the eyes and then murmurs: “You take care of him now, Sherlock.”  
John doesn’t know if he was supposed to hear that, but he did.  
  
 _How dare you still know me better than everybody else?_ He thinks.  
He still wants to be angry, but he can’t anymore.  
  
“Goodbye John”, Sherlock says and makes his way to the door.   
“Goodbye Sherlock”, John replies.  
  
 _Keep a straight face until he’s gone.  
That’s all it takes.  
Come on, John. You can do that._  
  
Sherlock seems to walk incredibly slowly; it takes him forever to get to the door.  
But before he even touches the door knob John has already had enough. “Sherlock?” he says, his voice stupidly hopeful.  
Sherlock turns around. “Yes, John?”  
John bites his lip and curses himself, but it doesn’t help. “You think maybe… when you have a new case you can call me?”  
Sherlock doesn’t even blink. “If you wish so I surely can do that.”  
  
Then he leaves.  
  
 _How on earth is that ever supposed to work?_ John asks himself while he closes the door behind Sherlock.  
  
Sherlock the pug barks softly.


End file.
